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OLD PLANTATION DAYS 



OLD PLANTATION 
DAYS 

BEING RECOLLECTIONS OF SOUTHERN 
LIFE BEFORE THE CIVIL WAR 

BY 

Mrs. N. B. De Saussure 




NEW YORK 

DUFFIELD & COMPANY 

1909 



F~87S 
•Dt5 



Copyright, igog, by 
N. B. DE SAUSSURE 






THE TROW PRESS, NEW YORK 



ICi.A2n3:i'27 <^ 






AUTHOR'S NOTE 

The following reminiscences are pub- 
lished at the request of many friends who, 
after reading the manuscript, have urged that 
the recollections be given more permanent 
form and a wider circulation. 

N. B. DeSaussure. 



OLD PLANTATION DAYS 



Old Plantation Days 

My dear Granddaughter Dorothy: 

Grandmother is growing to be an old lady, 
and as you are still too young to remember 
all she has told you of her own and your 
mother's people, she is going to write down 
her recollections that you may thus gain a 
true knowledge of the old plantation days, 
now forever gone, from one whose life was 
spent amid those scenes. 

The South as I knew it has disappeared; 
the New South has risen from its ashes, filled 
with the energetic spirit of a new age. You 
can only know the New South, but there is a 
generation, now passing away, which holds 
in loving memory the South as it used to be. 

9 



Old Plantation Days 

Those memories are a legacy to the new gen- 
eration from the old, and it behooves the old 
to hand them down to the new. 

" The days that are no more " come 
crowding around me, insistent that I interpret 
them as I knew them; there are the happy 
plantation days, the recollection of which 
causes my heart to throb again with youthful 
pleasure, and near them are the days, the 
dreadful days, of war and fire and famine. I 
shrink as the memory of these draws near. 

The spirit of those early days Is what I 
chiefly desire to leave with you ; the bare facts 
are history, but just as the days come back to 
my recollection I will write about them, and 
necessarily the record will be fitful memories 
woven together but Imperfectly. 

My father, your great-grandfather, was a 
direct descendant on his mother's side of 
Landgrave Smith, first Colonial Governor of 

lO 



Old Plantation Days 

South Carolina, his mother being Landgrave 
Smith's granddaughter; his grandfather was 
Pierre Robert, a Huguenot minister who 
emigrated to America, after the revocation 
of the edict of Nantes, and led the Huguenot 
colony to South Carolina. 

My father was born in 1791 in the old 
homestead situated forty miles up the river 
from Savannah. He had twelve children, 
and I was one of the younger members of his 
large family. His early life was similar to 
the life of any present-day boy, with school 
days and holidays. During the holidays he 
enjoyed the excellent hunting and fishing 
which our large plantation afforded and 
which gave him great skill in those sports; 
later in life he brought up his own sons to 
enjoy them with him. He used to tell us, to 
our great entertainment, many incidents of 
his childhood days. When a little boy he 
II 



Old Plantation Days 

used to drive through the country with his 
grandmother in a coach and four. 

After he left South Carolina College he 
made a trip through the North on horseback, 
as this was before the time of railroads. It 
took him a month to reach Pennsylvania and 
New York State, and as it was in the year of 
1812, he happened to ride out of Baltimore 
as the British rode in. 

We children were always delighted when 
father told us of his many adventures, and 
the strange sights he saw during his travels. 
One episode always greatly shocked us, which 
was that of his seeing men in the public bak- 
eries In Pennsylvania mixing bread dough 
with their bare feet. 

After father returned home he married a 

cousin. Miss Robert. He had one son by this 

marriage, at whose birth the young mother 

died. This son returning from a Northern 

12 



Old Plantation Days 

college on the first steamboat ever run be- 
tween Charleston and New York, was 
drowned; for the vessel foundered and was 
lost off the coast of North Carolina. 

Father's second wife was a descendant of 
the Mays of Virginia, who were descendants 
of the Earl of Stafford's younger brother. 
This lady was my own dear mother and your 
great-grandmother. 

I must now tell you something about her 
grandmother, for my mother inherited much 
of her wonderful character from this stalwart 
Revolutionary character. My great-grand- 
mother's eldest son, at nineteen, was a captain 
in the Revolutionary War, and she was left 
alone, a widow on her plantation. When the 
British made a raid on her home, carrying off 
everything, she remained undaunted, and, 
mounting a horse, rode in hot haste to where 
the army was stationed, and asked to see the 

13 



Old Plantation Days 

general in command. Her persistence gained 
admittance. She stated her case and the con- 
dition in which the British soldiers had left 
her home, and pleaded her cause with so 
much eloquence that the general ordered the 
spoils returned to her. 

Dearest child, in the intrepid spirit of this 
ancestor you will find the keynote to the brave 
spirit of the women of the South. 

This old lady, who was your great-great- 
great-grandmother, lived to be a hundred and 
six years old; her skin was like parchment and 
very wrinkled; she died at last from an acci- 
dent. I have heard my mother say that she 
was a remarkable character, never idle, and 
her mind perfectly clear until the day of her 
death. At her advanced age she knitted 
socks for my eldest brother, a baby then, thus 
always finding something useful to employ 
her mind and her hands. 



Old Plantation Days 

Her son, my mother's father, was one of 
the most generous and benevolent of men, a 
pioneer of Methodism in that section of the 
country. He had a room in his house called 
" the minister's room." The ministers who 
went from place to place preaching were 
called circuit riders. These ministers always 
stayed at his house, hence " the minister's 
room " was very seldom vacant, and some 
ministers lived with him always. 

Once there was a great scarcity of corn 
caused by a drought. Grandfather came to 
the rescue of the neighborhood. He sent a 
raft down to Savannah, which was the near- 
est town, and had brought back, at his ex- 
pense, two thousand bushels of corn. He 
then sent out word to the poor of the sur- 
rounding country to come to him for what 
corn they needed, making each applicant give 
him a note for what he received. When he 

15. 



Old Plantation Days 

had thus provided for the immediate wants 
of the people, he generously tore up the notes ; 
for he had only taken them to prevent fraud. 

You will naturally wish me to tell you 
something of my mother, your great-grand- 
mother. She was born on March 25, 1801, 
and was educated at the Moravian School in 
North Carolina, which is still in existence. I 
saw a very interesting description of this 
school in the Tribune of March, 1904. 

Mother was well educated in all branches 
taught during her girlhood. Even after she 
was seventy-five years old she could repeat 
every rule of grammar and she always wrote 
with ease and correctness. This shows that 
what was taught in those days was taught 
with thoroughness, even if the studies were 
few and simple compared to the intricate and 
manifold ones of the present day. Mother 
was a woman of remarkable sweetness of 
16 



Old Plantation Days 

disposition and intelligence, and had great 
executive ability, which latter quality was in- 
dispensable in the mistress of a large house- 
hold of children and servants. She gave un- 
ceasing care and attention to her children, and 
personally supervised every detail of their 
education. Besides these duties, the negroes 
of the plantation, their food and clothing, 
care of their infants and the sick, all came 
under her control. 

My father and mother inherited most of 
their negroes, and there was an attachment 
existing between master and mistress and 
their slaves which one who had never borne 
such a relation could never understand. 

"Uncle Tom's Cabin" has set the standard 
in the North, and it seems useless for those 
who owned and loved the negroes to say 
there was any other method used in their 
management than that of strictest severity; 

17 



Old Plantation Days 

but let me tell you that in one of my rare vis- 
its South to my own people, the old-time 
darkies, our former slaves, walked twenty 
miles to see " Miss Nancy " and her little 
daughter, and the latter, your dear mother, 
would often be surprised, when taken impul- 
sively in their big black arms, and hugged 
and kissed and cried over " for ol' times' 
sake." 

When I would inquire into their welfare 
and present condition I heard but one refrain, 
" I'd never known what it was to suffer till 
freedom came, and we lost our master." 
Yes, Dorothy dear, a lot of children unpre- 
pared to enjoy the Emancipation Proclama- 
tion were suddenly confronted with life's 
problems. 

I have beside me a letter from a friend, 
now in South Africa. She says in part: '* I 
am sure you, too, would have thought much 
i8 



Old Plantation Days 

on the many problems presented by this black 
people. It is perfectly appalling when one 
thinks that they are really human beings ! 
Human beings without any humanity, and 
not the slightest suggestion that there is any 
vital spark on which to begin work, for ap- 
parently they have no affection for anybody 
or anything, and it is an insult to a good dog 
to compare them to animals." 

Such, my dear child, is the African in his 
native country at the present day, the twen- 
tieth century, and such was the imported 
African before he was Christianized and hu- 
manized by the people of the South. In 
order to show you that I am not prejudiced 
in favor of the Southerners' treatment of 
their slaves I will insert a letter from Dr. 
Edward Lathrop, whose daughter was an 
old schoolmate of mine at Miss Bonney's in 
Philadelphia. 

19 



Old Plantation Days 

July 23, 1903. . 
My dear Mrs. De Saussure : 

I will proceed to answer your inquiries. 
You know I am Southern born and raised. I 
am a Georgian, and although never a slave- 
holder I was nursed by a negro woman to 
whom I was most fondly attached, and who, 
I believe, loved me as she would her own son. 
I have had the opportunity to mingle freely 
with slaveholders of different characters and 
dispositions, and while I regard slavery as 
such an enormous evil and am heartily glad 
that it has been abolished in this country, I 
am bound in candor to say that my observa- 
tion, during all these years of my residence 
in Georgia and South Carolina, thoroughly 
convinced me that in the majority of cases 
slaves were more kindly treated and brought 
into more intimate and kindly relations to 
white families than they are now, though 
20 



Old Plantation Days 

free. This, of course, Is not given as an apol- 
ogy for slaver}', but it is a simple statement 
of facts. I might refer, for example, to what 
I witnessed and felt, while a guest, on more 
than one occasion, in the house of your hon- 
ored father and mother. Your father seemed 
to me to be as watchful of the interests, both 
temporal and spiritual, of his slaves as of his 
own immediate white family. It was, to my 
mind, a beautiful Illustration of patriarchal 
slavery, as it existed In the days of Abra- 
ham. Of course there were exceptions to 
this treatment of slaves by their owners, 
but, as a rule, so far as my observation 
extended, your father's methods were uni- 
versally approved, while the cruel slave- 
holder was indignantly condemned and re- 
pudiated. 

You may remember that I was for three 
years the associate of Rev. Dr. Fuller, then 

21 



Old Plantation Days 

pastor of the Baptist Church in Beaufort, 
S. C. 

Beaufort District (now county) was prob- 
ably the largest slavcholding district In the 
State. 

Most that I have stated above, as to the 
kindly treatment of slaves was emphatically 
true of Beaufort. The Baptist Church, In 
addition to its white membership, embraced 
about two thousand slaves. These slaves, as 
church members, enjoyed equal privileges 
with the whites. Dr. Fuller or myself 
preached to them every Sunday. The Lord's 
Supper was administered to them and to the 
whites impartially and at the same time. 
And any grievance that they complained of, 
among themselves, was as patiently listened 
to and adjusted as was the case with the 
white members. In a word, all that could be 
done for them, in their circumstances, was 

22 



Old Plantation Days 

promptly and cheerfully done. I could add 
much more of the same tenor to what I have 
written, but I will not weary you with a long 
discourse. 

Affectionately yours, 

Edward Lathrop. 

To this let me add this editorial from the 
New York Sun of February i, 1907, bearing 
on the question. 

" Uncle Remus on the Negro 

" We see no occasion for the astonishment 
that has been aroused in this part of the coun- 
try by the eloquent and touching tribute to 
the negro's virtues by Mr. Joel Chandler 
Harris, of Georgia. It Is by no means the 
first time he has spoken to the same effect, nor 
is he the only Southerner of his class who has 
proclaimed similar opinions. It ought to be 
23 



Old Plantation Days 

perfectly well known to the entire country 
that the better class of whites dwell in peace 
and kindness and good will with their col- 
ored fellow-creatures, and that practically 
all of the so-called ' race conflicts ' are the 
product of an ancient hate dating back far 
beyond the Civil War and involving, now as 
always hitherto, no one of whom either race 
is at all proud. 

" This is a flagrant truth which Northern 
people have had the opportunity of assimi- 
lating any time during the past forty years. 
The emancipation of the slaves, effected in 
reality after the surrender of Lee, Johnson 
and Kirby Smith, made no change in the 
purely personal relations between the freed- 
men and their former masters. Not even the 
abominable episode of reconstruction availed 
to eradicate the affectionate entente of the 
classes and turn them against each other to 
24 



Old Plantation Days 

the evil ends of animosity and vengeance. 
The old slaveholders knew that their quon- 
dam servants and dependents were innocent 
of vicious purpose. The latter understood 
full well that when in need of help and sym- 
pathy and pitying ministrations the former 
offered them their only sure refuge and relief. 
No actor in this mournful tragedy has for- 
gotten anything. No political or social trans- 
mutation has changed anything so far as these 
two are concerned. The quarrels and the 
violent and bloody clashes of which so much 
is made in our newspapers, whether through 
honest ignorance or malign intent, are far 
outside of the philosophy of any important 
element of the Southern population. 

"Joel Chandler Harris tells the simple truth 
when he says that the negroes of the South 
are moving onward, accumulating property, 
making themselves useful citizens and ce- 

25 



Old Plantation Days 

meriting the hallowed ties of respect and con- 
fidence between the classes which represent 
the South's righteousness and civilization. In 
this section we concern ourselves too much 
with the insignificant minority. We accept 
the testimony of the ' educated ' few on the 
negro side — educated to little more than a 
fruitless smattering of vanity and conceit — 
and we much too easily imagine that the 
Southern ' cracker ' stands for the ideas and 
illustrates the methods of the whites. No 
falser or more misleading hypothesis could 
be presented. The negro who typifies vio- 
lence and barbarism is one in ten thousand. 
The white man who employs the shotgun and 
the torch is quite as unimportant. We shower 
our solicitudes on the pestiferous exception 
and overlook the wholesome rule. 

" Uncle Remus knows what he is talking 
about — knows it to its deepest depth." 
26 



Old Plantation Days 

I think If I were to give you an account of 
one day as spent by my mother, it would best 
present an idea of the arduous duties of an 
old-time Southern lady on a plantation. My 
mother had a magnificent constitution or she 
could never have accomplished the amount 
of work required of her. I never knew her 
to have until her latter years a physician for 
herself. But for family needs we had col- 
ored nurses who, under a physician, were 
competent and devoted in sickness. 

The day was always begun with family 
prayers, for my father's religious principles 
were his staff In life, and he derived much 
strength from them. His devotion to Christ 
was unusual, and I never knew him to doubt 
for an Instant that he himself was a child of 
God. Having a most affectionate disposi- 
tion, he loved his wife and children intensely, 
and lived in and for them. Fortunately, the 
27 



Old Plantation Days 

love he gave them was fully returned, and I 
doubt if there was ever a more devoted and 
united family. 

At sunset it was a sacred custom of his to 
go into a room in a wing of the house, re- 
moved from all noise, and kneel in prayer. 
Every child and grandchild would follow him 
to the quiet room, and as we knelt by his side, 
he would commend us to God's loving care, 
and rise from his knees to kiss each one of us, 
sons and daughters alike. No matter what 
our occupation or pleasures were, we would 
hasten home that we might not miss this sun- 
set prayer, for then all differences that had 
grown up between us in the day would be 
healed, and we felt ourselves drawn into one 
united family again. My brothers and sis- 
ters, old men and women now, can never 
speak of that sacred hour without tears. 

I will here copy a letter received not long 
28 



Old Plantation Days 

ago from a dear friend, Miss Morse, for 
years one of the faculty of Vassar College, 
that you may see how our home life affected 
'* strangers within our gates." 

My Precious Friend: 

In asking me to give you my recollec- 
tions of that cultivated consecrated home 
where I spent a delightful half year, you 
have given me a privilege. I love to recall 
that period, so unique in my experience. 

Your father had arranged for my jour- 
ney. A son came from Princeton to go with 
me to the steamer, and at Savannah his fac- 
tor placed me in your father's boat, going up 
the river by night, to his plantation home. 

This was my first acquaintance with ne- 
groes. At first I was afraid, being the only 
white person on board, but as I remembered 
that it was your father's plan, I knew it must 
29 



Old Plantation Days 

be safe, and gave myself up to the enjoyment 
of the scene. A happier set of beings than 
the negroes on board it would be hard to find. 

The night was dark, but on deck they gath- 
ered in groups about their bright fires, roast- 
ing corn and singing their quaint and wonder- 
fully sweet plantation songs. 

At daybreak we reached your father's 
landing, where you were waiting for me in 
the carriage, and when we drove up to the 
beautiful home, there were your parents at 
the door, ready to give me a truly Southern 
welcome. 

Breakfast was served, and as your father 
asked the blessing, he prayed most earnestly 
that old Maum Mary might be found that 
day; every day the prayer was repeated, till 
he felt she could not be living, and then it 
was changed to a request that they might find 
her body to give it burial. She was an old 

30 



Old Plantation Days 

negress, who had lost her mind, and, fearing 
she might stray away and get lost, your 
father had placed her daughter-in-law, a 
bright young negress, in the house with her, 
to care for her and specially to watch, lest in 
her mental weakness she might stray away; 
what he feared happened, for the daugh- 
ter-in-law proved less tender and faithful 
than the master, and the old woman es- 
caped. 

When all hope of finding her alive was 
gone, the prayer of the master was that they 
might find her body and give it burial, but 
even this was not granted him. 

It was a revelation to me of the tender care 
that old patriarch gave to his slaves, no won- 
der that they loved him. 

You used to ask me, almost daily, to go 
with you to see some feeble old woman, who 
might be lonely and would be looking for you 

31 



Old Plantation Days 

to come and see her, and I could hardly help 
shrinking as you would allow yourself to be 
gathered Into her arms, and the petting 
would be mutual. 

If a negro was sick, your father would 
always send him food from his own table, 
which was received with great pleasure. 

At the time I was there your mother had 
become too feeble to continue her daily 
rounds among the sick and feeble, taking 
medicine, looking after bandages on broken 
limbs, etc., but an older daughter had taken 
her place to some extent. 

I enjoyed very much the prayer-meeting 
evenings of the negroes. The Methodists 
had one evening and the Baptists another. 
They always held them in a building espe- 
cially made for that purpose, and the singing, 
as it came through our open windows, was 
very sweet. Your father had to limit the 

32 



Old Plantation Days 

time or they would have continued the serv- 
ices all night. 

On Sunday they attended the same 
churches as the family, the galleries being 
reserved for them. I might have added in 
telling of their prayer meeting, that when we 
were present they always prayed for " Ole 
Massa and Missus," and the various mem- 
bers of the family, including the " young 
Missus from the North." 

The little negro children would leave their 
play to gather around me as they saw me 
walking about the grounds. 

As I recall a day in that home, so filled 
with love and peace, I think of the morning 
and evening prayers where the dear old patri- 
arch seemed to be talking to a friend whom 
he trusted and loved. 

Every morning his horse was brought to 
the door for him to ride over the plantation. 

33 



Old Plantation Days 

His daughter Nannie never failed to be there 
to help him on with his coat, and at his return 
to take off his wraps, bring him his dressing- 
gown, and cover him as he lay down to 
rest. 

In fact, from morning till night she 
seemed always to have him in her thoughts, 
to anticipate every wish, and give him most 
devoted attention. I am sure it must always 
be a sweet memory to her that she never 
overlooked a possible opportunity of add- 
ing to his happiness. Few fathers re- 
ceive such devoted attention from their 
children. 

Do you remember how I used to enjoy the 
blaze of the pine knots in the fireplace in 
your room at night, and how, as they burned 
out, you would say to Susan, your maid, 
" Now throw on another knot for Miss 
Morse?" And do you remember how I 
34 



Old Plantation Days 

used to ride about alone on your pet 
horse? 

Oh, what a happy winter that was! The 
whole atmosphere was one of love — love be- 
tween parents and children, and love that 
overflowed till it seemed to me that every ne- 
gro on the place must feel the effects of it. 
Certainly every sick or aged one received 
tenderest care. 

I remember your mother, in telling me of 
her heavy duties in caring for so large a fam- 
ily, mentioned an instance in which she had 
to go every day to dress a broken arm of a 
negro child, because the mother was too Indo- 
lent to attend to it. 

On Sundays your mother and her daugh- 
ters used to go around to the negroes' houses 
to read the Bible, and teach the children 
Bible verses. 

I hope that the reading of these memories 

35 



Old Plantation Days 

will recall to you something of the sweetness 
of that dear home, consecrated by your par- 
ents' prayers. 

Lovingly, 

Your " MoRSiE." 

This has been a long digression from the 
one day in my mother's life I promised to 
depict for you, but those early scenes come 
into my mind so fast that the letter from my 
dear friend telling of them seemed most ap- 
propriately to come into the story just at that 
point. But to return — after breakfast it 
was customary for the head nurse to report 
any cases of sickness on the plantation to 
my mother. Mother's medicine chest was 
brought out and together they consulted 
about the condition of each patient. If any- 
one were very ill, a man was sent to call in 
a physician who lived several miles away. 
36 



Old Plantation Days 

My mother then hastened to the negro quar- 
ters, and if the invahds could be removed 
they were brought to the sick house — a large, 
long building fitted with cots — where they 
could be better cared for. 

One of my earliest recollections was to 
follow mother with my brothers and sisters, 
each child carrying a plate filled with food 
from the table for the convalescents, and, al- 
though at this day contagious diseases are so 
carefully avoided, I can remember going 
fearlessly in and out of the cabins, carrying 
dainty dishes to many little ones who were 
suffering with what they then called putrid 
sore throat. It was really diphtheria, and, 
strange to say, not one of our family took the 
disease, though there were forty cases on the 
plantation. They were taken to the pine 
land, so that the good air might aid their re- 
covery. 

37 



Old Plantation Days 

After attending the sick, mother's next 
duty was to give out the daily provisions. 
She made a pretty picture in her quaint gown 
carrying a basket of keys on her arm. The 
Bible verse, " She looketh well to the ways 
of her household, and eateth not the bread of 
idleness," could well have been written of 
her. With twenty-five house and garden 
servants and the many little children to be 
looked after, this daily provisioning took a 
great deal of time, and thought. 

The house servants had their own kitchen 
and cook. The negro children were under 
the care of a woman in a building apart, in 
fact, it was like a modern day nursery, where 
the working mothers could leave their chil- 
dren in safety. The older children about the 
place helped in the care of the little ones. 
Mothers with babies were only required to 
do light work, such as raking leaves, spin- 
38 



Old Plantation Days 

ning, or sewing, that they might be ready 
and in condition to nurse their babies. 

I can remember going to this nursery with 
mother frequently, for she always wanted to 
know that the children's food was properly 
prepared. They had vegetable soups with 
corn meal " dodgers " or dumplings, of 
which they were very fond. Sometimes corn 
bread in place of these, and as much hominy 
and sweet potatoes as they wanted. 

Father had hundreds of cattle, cows, 
sheep, and hogs. We milked sixty cows on 
the plantation, and all the milk which had 
been set and skimmed was given to the ne- 
groes who came to the dairy to carry it to 
their homes in great tubs, and the little ones 
trotted along carrying their " piggins," 
which was the name for their small wooden 
buckets. The milk which had turned to 
clabber, " bonny clabber " as the Scotch call 

39 



Old Plantation Days 

It, was considered a most delightful dish in 
our hot climate. It is so refreshing when 
cold that you often see me eating it now for 
tea. 

Mother's vegetable gardens were then vis- 
ited. These gardens were noted; they were 
so unusual in their beautiful arrangement 
that all strangers who came to the neighbor- 
hood were brought to see them. The walks 
were graveled and rolled, and myriads of 
bright flowers formed borders for the beds. 

The poultry yards required supervision 
and care and were kept In perfect order. 
There were many acres, so-called " runs," 
planted in rye and other grains, for the use 
of the poultry, where they roved at will with 
some one to follow and bring them back to 
the yards at night, to be locked up. I often 
used to hear mother say " five hundred chick- 
ens, one hundred geese, one hundred turkeys, 
40 



Old Plantation Days 

and one hundred ducks, were necessary to be 
kept on hand for table use." 

Another care of hers was to provide cloth- 
ing for all the negroes, of whom there were 
over five hundred. To accomplish this, seam- 
stresses were at work all the year round; 
three in the house and five or six in the negro 
quarters. These made the men's and wom- 
en's clothing. All the cutting was done 
under mother's supervision; and during the 
early part of the war, all the spinning and 
weaving of cloth, and even of blankets, was 
done on the plantation. At one time I re- 
member seeing two thousand yards of cloth 
ready to make up into clothes. Fifteen years 
after the war, on my visit South, I saw the 
negro women still wearing some of the 
dresses which were woven at that time. The 
cloth went by the name of " homespun." I 
am giving you a rather minute account, be- 
41 



Old Plantation Days 

cause I want you, my darling, to gain as inti- 
mate a knowledge as possible of that life 
which has forever passed away. 

I remember seeing my mother come into 
the house from her morning rounds, tired, 
but cheered with the consciousness that no 
duty had been neglected. 

You will wonder how she found any time 
to give to her children; but we were busy in 
school all those hours. We had a school- 
house on the plantation where we went after 
breakfast with our governess. In those days, 
as teachers were not paid well for their serv- 
ices, it was difficult to find refined and cul- 
tured people to fill the position. Knowing 
this, father paid the highest salaries and thus 
secured the best talent there was to be had for 
us. One of our teachers afterwards opened 
a school in Philadelphia, and another held an 
important position at Vassar College. 
42 



Old Plantation Days 

Besides a governess, we also had a music 
teacher, so we were expected to devote many 
hours to practicing music, and thus we were 
employed while mother was busy house- 
keeping. 

The governesses were always astonished 
at the wonderful energy and ability shown by 
my mother in managing her household. I 
have heard them say that if Northern people 
could only view a Southern woman's daily 
life, how impressed they would be. 

As soon as the girls in our family were old 
enough they were sent North to school to fin- 
ish their education, and the boys were sent to 
Northern colleges. 

I went for a time to a boarding school near 
Columbia, at the early age of twelve, and 
at fifteen went North with my sister, your 
great-aunt Catherine Robert. Father ob- 
jected to my leaving home again, as he 

43 



Old Plantation Days 

wanted me near him, but mother said educa- 
tion was all important, and the personal sac- 
rifice had to be made. In my seventeenth 
year, I again went North with three brothers 
and a sister, thus making five of us studying 
at Princeton and at Philadelphia. 

My parents were left alone, and out of 
their brood of twelve not one remained in the 
home nest, as six elder ones had married, and 
one other was dead. Father said he missed 
us so terribly that he felt as if he could not 
live without one of us with him. I returned, 
therefore, and remained with my parents until 
I was married. This long residence at home 
will account for my knowledge of everything 
concerning the dear father and mother, who 
were so devoted to their children. 

Right here, speaking of my boarding- 
school days at Columbia, I must tell you 
about my pet deer. It is another digression, 
44 



Old Plantation Days 

dear child, but I would like you to know 
about the pet I thought so much of, and who 
so dearly loved me. 

Our plantation was, and still is, famed 
for game of all kinds, particularly deer. For 
many miles there were hunting grounds, now 
owned by Northern men, who have learned 
how full of game that section of South Car- 
olina is. 

As a child I was especially fond of pets, 
and knowing this, my friends often gave me 
birds, or animals, to which I was very de- 
voted. One day there came to me in this way 
a young fawn, which had been caught by ne- 
groes. So young was this gentle little crea- 
ture that I had to feed it from a bottle. I 
spent most of my time with it out of doors, 
and it became very much attached to me. 
My mother was always very particular about 
the complexion of her children, as most 

45 



Old Plantation Days 

Southern little girls are apt to become much 
freckled by the hot sun. So we were all 
obliged to wear sunbonnets, and I can see 
this little deer now running along beside me, 
with the sunbonnet I should have been wear- 
ing tied on its head. 

As the fawn grew older it still remained 
so gentle that it would go into the house with 
me and follow me upstairs and lie down by 
the bed. As the autumn approached and 
the evenings grew cold, it would come into 
the house and he down before the open fire 
just as a dog would do. Our dogs never dis- 
turbed it by day, but we were afraid to trust 
them at night, so Willie, for that was my 
pet's name, was always locked up in a little 
house we had for her. When she was three 
months old I went to boarding school, and 
was gone nine months. It nearly broke my 
heart to leave Willie, but my father, and in 
46 



Old Plantation Days 

fact, everyone promised to take good care 
of her, and let nothing happen to her. Reg- 
ularly I heard from her through them until 
near the time for my return, when the home 
letter ceased to speak of her. 

I looked forward to my home-coming with 
great delight, and my first question when I 
arrived was concerning Willie. It was then 
I learned that she had gone to the swamps 
and had frequently been seen with other deer. 
Occasionally she had revisited her adopted 
home, so they told me, coming in and out 
past the dogs, not seeming to be at all afraid 
of them. My father suggested that I should 
go with him into the fields where she had 
been most frequently seen feeding with a 
number of deer, and see if we could obtain a 
glimpse of her. 

Mounted on our favorite horses, we started 
off and rode through the open country. We 
47 



Old Plantation Days 

had gone but a couple of miles when my 
father pointed in the distance to a group of 
his negroes, who were working in a field, 
saying that Willie was likely to be found 
near them, for he had seen her, at intervals, 
feeding with other deer in that vicinity. He 
noticed then that she would leave her com- 
panions, and approach the negroes, but would 
not allow them to touch her. We stopped 
our horses and looked around over the lovely 
country. Suddenly my father exclaimed, 
" Look, Nannie, look ! " pointing toward 
the west. Standing before the setting sun, 
their graceful forms clearly outlined, were 
five or six deer. 

We approached cautiously, not wishing to 
frighten them. At last I dismounted and as 
I ventured nearer, I saw the deer lift up their 
startled heads, and heard the faint tinkle of 
Willie's bell; for I had placed a heavy leather 
48 



Old Plantation Days 

strap with a bell around her neck, to protect 
her against the hunters, as no one would 
knowingly kill a pet deer. 

Father cried out to me, " Call her by name, 
as you used to do." I called, " WiUie, Wil- 
lie." At the sound of my voice the beautiful 
little creature lifted her head and stood still 
and listened, while the other deer fled; 
then evidently impelled by recollection, she 
bounded toward me. I wish I could picture 
the scene to you, Dorothy, and do justice to 
it. If anyone has ever seen a deer in full 
motion, he could never forget it. She came 
bounding toward me over the high furrows, 
her feet scarcely touching the ground. I ran 
forward to meet her, and threw my arms 
around her neck. The joy she manifested 
amazed my father. She rubbed her face all 
over my face and neck, and tried to show me 
in every way her delight in being with me 

49 



Old Plantation Days 

again. I remained in the field petting her 
until nearly dark, when my father urged the 
necessity of our returning home. I bade her 
farewell for I had no thought that she would 
follow me, but after mounting my horse, she 
trotted along by my side just as a dog would 
do. At the entrance to our place was a high 
fence with eleven bars. As my father opened 
the gate for me to pass through, he quickly 
shut it against Willie, saying he wanted to 
see what she would do with such a barrier 
between us. Nothing daunted she immedi- 
ately bounded over the fence, which was a 
remarkable jump for any animal, and fol- 
lowed us up to the house. When I dismounted 
she followed me into the yard, passing fear- 
lessly among the hunting dogs. 

She remained at home with me as long as 
my vacation lasted, and became as docile and 
gentle as she was before, not making any 

50 



Old Plantation Days 

effort to return to her wild life. After my 
vacation was over and I returned to school, 
she went back to the woods and spent the 
winter there. In the spring on my return, I 
was frequently told by the hunters that 
they had seen her with her fawns. She 
was known throughout the entire section, 
and being belled all could avoid shooting 
her. 

One day I was driving to church and saw 
her on the edge of the deep woods with her 
two beautiful fawns. I ordered the driver 
to stop quickly, and jumped out of the car- 
riage, running toward her and calling her 
by her name. She stood as if she remem- 
bered my voice, but her fawns fled in terror 
and she went bounding after them. That 
was the last time I ever saw her for she died 
of black tongue. A hunter found her in the 
woods, unstrapped her bell and brought it to 

51 



Old Plantation Days 

me, and I kept it for years, until in the war 
it was lost with everything else. 

But to return to the plantation life. This 
life has been written of by many authors, 
and " Southern hospitality " is proverbial, so 
you will not be surprised at my description 
of our way of living. English people who 
visited us said it was like the English country 
life. We kept "open house"; everybody 
was welcome, and our many horses were at 
the disposal of the guest. My father's sta- 
bles held thirty horses, many of them work 
animals, of course, but among them were fine 
saddle horses, always ready for the use of our 
friends. 

Often our stables were emptied of their 
occupants to make room for " company 
horses," that is, those brought by our friends 
when they came to visit us. 

Near our house there was a two-story build- 

52 



Old Plantation Days 

Ing built for the accommodation of gentle- 
men, strangers. As there were no inns in our 
country, and plantations were miles apart, 
some provision had to be made for the enter- 
tainment of travelers, who were never turned 
away. We often had delightful house 
parties and hunting parties, but our chief 
enjoyment was riding through the wild and 
beautiful country. We also went on fishing 
excursions, and on picnics. We thought 
nothing of driving ten miles to dine at a 
neighbor's house. 

Gentlemen visiting, brought their valets 
and dogs for hunting, and young ladies came 
with their own maids. It was a delightful 
open-hearted, open-handed way of living, my 
child, but it was brought to an abrupt end, as 
you will hear. 

Fortunately my mother had a fine house- 
keeper who relieved her of the care of the 
S2> 



Old Plantation Days 

culinary department. This housekeeper was 
famed as a cook, and her table is still remem- 
bered by everyone who sat around it. 

Perhaps it would be interesting just here to 
explain how we came to have so competent a 
person in the house. During my father's 
early married life preparations were made to 
build a church in the neighborhood, (Robert- 
ville) called after the family. A contractor 
was engaged from the North to build the 
church. He brought workmen with him, 
and among them was a carpenter belonging 
to a better class of Irish than was usually 
found in such a trade. He brought his wife 
and three children with him, and during the 
summer contracted a violent fever. Father 
always thought it his duty to visit all the sick 
in the neighborhood; therefore, he saw him 
frequently, caring for his needs. When the 
poor man found that he could not live, he 
54 



Old Plantation Days 

asked my father to provide for his wife and 
children, which my father consented to do. 
He kept his promise, and after the husband's 
death, took the three little ones home with 
their mother, and made them comfortable in 
one of the many outbuildings always found 
on a Southern plantation. In a few weeks 
the mother gave birth to a little girl and died, 
leaving the four little orphans in my father's 
care. Father wished to adopt them all, but 
my mother, with her usual good judgment, 
said she was willing to have the care of them, 
but would not consent to adopting them, as 
she did not think it well to have children of 
another nationality brought up as our sisters 
and brothers. 

Eventually three of these little people were 
adopted by those who had no children, and 
one remained with us. This little girl, Mar- 
gian Kane, was sent to school, but when old 

55 



Old Plantation Days 

enough to go into higher studies refused 
further schooling, to learn the art of house- 
keeping from my mother. She died only two 
years ago, living to be eighty-four years old. 
Our family took care of her until her death. 
She was devoted to my father, and always 
remembered him with gratitude. 

I love to linger over those happy, free- 
from-care days when our hospitable door, al- 
ways open, brought so many interesting peo- 
ple among us, but I must push on to graver 
matters. 

I devoted much of my time to music, 
especially to the harp which was my favorite 
instrument. Although I had several masters 
in music during the years L was at home, I 
often went to Charleston to take extra lessons. 
While in Charleston I met your grandfather, 
Henry William De Saussure, who was a 
descendant of the Huguenot family of that 
S6 



Old Plantation Days 

name, and a grandson of Chancellor Henry 
William De Saussure. 

We were married at home In 1859. I 
have been fortunate In procuring a copy of 
the wedding article which appeared in the 
Charleston paper, the Mercury, 1859, which 
is still on file in the library there. The copy 
is as follows : 

" On the 4th Inst, at Robertville church, 
Beaufort District, by the Rev. J. M. Bostick, 
Dr. H. W. De Saussure, Jr., to Miss Nannie 
W., daughter of B, R, Bostick, Esq. 

For THE MERCURY 

The Wedding Breakfast 

The Daylight Scene. The Marriage Cere- 
mony. The Surprise. The Parting. 

" The bright st:;rs had not all disappeared 
on the morning of the 4th Inst., when the 

57 



Old Plantation Days 

sexton of the Robertville church com- 
menced opening the same. The early hour, 
the studied neatness of his dress, and his 
hurried manner, all indicated that something 
unusual was about to occur. He had not yet 
completed his work, when carriages and bug- 
gies in quick succession were rapidly driven 
up to the church from various directions. 
The sun had just risen in unusual splendor 
as if more fully to witness the vows that were 
appointed to be taken at his appearing, and 
the company scarcely collected, when your for- 
tunate townsman led to the altar Miss 

. By the altar was seated a young man, 

who like themselves, had just entered the 
threshold of life. His countenance, how- 
ever, would induce the belief that he was 
accustomed to serious reflection. And one 
from his appearance pronounced him a min- 
ister. He rises, his voice falters not, but 
58 



Old Plantation Days 

betokens a deep and heartfelt emotion, and 
how could it be otherwise, for he is joining 
in holy wedlock his sister, the playmate of 
his childhood hours — the object in later years 
of his tender solicitude and prayers. And 
really did it seem that he would have given 
worlds to insure for that couple the happiness 
he so devoutly implored of Heaven, 

" But the marriage ceremony is ended, con- 
gratulations of friends over; and again start 
out a number of the happy company with the 
bride and groom. 

" The village is left but a short distance, 
when our road gradually descended into a 
wood too damp for cultivation, but so fertile 
as to grow huge live oak trees, which formed 
with their boughs, well-nigh a continuous 
arch over us, from which, in most beautiful 
clusters almost, but not quite in one's reach, 
hung the wild grapes of our forest, and as 
59 



Old Plantation Days 

the young and merry people would unsuccess- 
fully snatch at these beautiful bunches as 
they rapidly passed, we were reminded of 
how swiftly they would pass through life, 
and at how many pleasures they would vainly 
grasp. The fifth mile is accomplished and 
we are on the banks of the Savannah. We 
had hardly time to admire the beautiful 
stream, when turning to the right, imagine 
our surprise at seeing a beautifully spread 
table. Curiosity soon carried us to the spot, 
and our astonishment was only increased when 
we saw the preparations that had been made. 
" We soon learned that a lady who had 
once graced the society of Washington, and 
afterwards by her intelligence and accom- 
plished manners, had delighted the society of 
Columbia, had sent on fishermen and cooks, 
and had spread this repast in honor of the 
new married couple, which no one would have 
60 



Old Plantation Days 

dreamed could have been got up at such a 
place. 

" But the breakfast is over; the dew spar- 
kling in the grass at our feet; the happy chirp 
of the birds as they, too, make their morning 
meal on the berries and insects around us, 
together with the mocking birds seated in the 
tree above our table and seemingly conscious 
of their powers, have come to pay their sweet 
tribute to the bride, all constrain us to linger. 
That sister too, next to the bride in years, 
she feels it wrong, but yet she cannot be will- 
ing to relinquish her sister to her newly made 
brother. Well does she remember, how on 
repeated occasions, that soft voice has com- 
forted her, and she cannot trust herself to say 
adieu. And little Frank has lifted his blue 
eyes to his mother as if to inquire, ' Will that 
man take away my aunty ? ' That look has 
reached his mother's heart, it is too full to 
6i 



Old Plantation Days 

explain ; and she stoops to kiss away the tears 
from his cheeks. That brother, he is much 
her senior in years, he is no stranger to life's 
conflicts, see how his heart trembles when he 
says ' God bless you Nannie.' 

" But the iron horse tarries on his way for 
none, the railroad is to be reached by such an 
hour and into the waiting boat step the bride 
and groom, the young minister and his 
mother. Scarcely had the boat left the shore 
when the oft-repeated charge is reiterated by 
that venerable mother to her children on 
shore, ' My children, take good care of your 
father.' 

" It has not been with her one short morn- 
ing of married life. Forty years ago she 
stood at the altar with her husband, and with 
him has she shared life's sorrows and joys; 
and for him with woman's constancy her 
heart still beats truest. But adieu, young and 
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Old Plantation Days 

happy couple. That your boat, as it crosses 
the waters of life, may guide you as smoothly 
as it now does across the beautiful waters of 
the Savannah, is the sincere wish of V. . . . 
August lo, 1859." 

Such, my dear Dorothy, is the account of 
my wedding which took place so many years 
ago, and with it ends the first period of my 
life. 

My husband was a physician and as we 
were obliged, on account of his profession, to 
live in a central place, my father built us a 
lovely home in Robertville, which we occupied 
about three months before the war began. 
We moved there on December 21, i860. 
Your precious mother was born March i, 
1861. 

It was a turbulent time; the feeling ran 

63 



Old Plantation Days 

high between the North and the South, and 
we heard rumors of war, but it seemed too 
far away to invade our peaceful country. 

When your mother was five weeks old we 
took her to Charleston to show her to your 
grandfather's parents — an important visit, 
as she was the first grand-baby in the family 
and they were eager to see her. 

It was an all-day journey with a drive of 
twenty miles to the railway. We reached 
Charleston about eight o'clock in the evening. 
My father-in-law met us, and after a warm 
greeting to the little stranger and ourselves, 
said, " You are just in time to see the fight 
at Fort Sumter, for it begins to-night." I 
was terrified and begged to be taken home, 
but there was no train until morning and, 
therefore, we had to remain. 

That night I was too frightened to sleep. 
Toward morning, about four o'clock, the first 
64 



Old Plantation Days 

gun was fired, and it seemed to me as if it 
were in my room. I sprang up, as I suppose 
everyone else did in the city. I hurriedly 
dressed myself and went down to cousin 
Louis De Saussure's house, which is still 
standing on the corner of South and East 
Battery. 

From Its numerous piazzas, which com- 
manded a fine view of the harbor, we watched 
every gun fired from the two forts, Moultrie 
and Sumter. The house was crowded with 
excited mothers and wives, who had sons and 
husbands In the fight, and every hour added 
to their distress and excitement, as reports, 
which afterwards proved false, were brought 
to them of wounded dear ones. It was a day 
I can never forget. 

That night we returned to Grandfather 
De Saussure's and when morning came we 
spent another most anxious day following 

65 



Old Plantation Days 

an anxious night, but when Fort Sumter took 
fire and the white flag was raised, our spirits 
rose over the Southern victory, to confidence 
and hope. 

We little realized the long years of strug- 
gle that were to follow ending in defeat, and 
ruined homes and country. Later on I was 
in Charleston several times when it was under 
shot and shell and heard the explosions of 
the shells as they shrielced over our houses. 
Those were sad and exciting times, the awful 
memories of which are still active with me. 

After a visit of several weeks, we returned 
to our home in Robertville, and my husband 
continued his practice, but his restlessness 
and anxiety to join the army was so great that 
I ceased to dissuade him. Physicians were 
needed at home, but he thought the older 
men should serve there, and the younger go 
to the front. He joined the Charleston Light 
66 



Old Plantation Days 

Dragoons, and became surgeon of Major 
Trenholm's brigade. When this brigade was 
was transferred to Virginia, he was, on ac- 
count of his health, detailed to look, after the 
hospitals on the coast. 

But before we left our home, the fort 
below our country town, Beaufort, was taken, 
and the Northern fleet sailed in while the 
inhabitants were asleep. This fight at Port 
Royal was the second battle of the war. 

When the tidings of the invasions of their 
town was brought to them, the people, think- 
ing the town would be shelled, fled in their 
carriages, many of them not waiting to dress 
themselves, so great was their fright. This 
long procession of carriages and wagons 
passed through our village about dusk, the 
occupants not knowing what to do or where 
to go. Every house was thrown open to 
them and these first refugees remained in 

67 



Old Plantation Days 

the neighborhood during the war. They 
were taken care of, until in turn we had to 
flee before Sherman's army. 

When Dr. De Saussure went into service 
I returned to my father's home and lived 
there until Sherman drove us out. I made 
many visits to my husband while he was in 
camp. I would load a wagon with provi- 
sions, and take my trusted butler, who was a 
good cook and equal to any emergency, and 
so we would arrive on the scene of action. 

We lived in a cabin of two rooms not 
more than twelve by fifteen feet, for when- 
ever my husband was stationed at any special 
hospital he would tell the convalescent pa- 
tients that if they would put up a little log 
cabin he would send for me. The officers 
would have their tents stationed around our 
little cabin and we had some pleasant times, 
though many anxious ones, for we never 
68 



Old Plantation Days 

knew when we would be obliged to flee. 
Thus I experienced the pleasures and terrors 
of camp life. Your great-aunt Agnes, whom 
you met at the South as an old lady, was then 
a young lady visiting us. She was a beau- 
tiful girl with a voice like a bird. She was 
a great favorite with the officers and mar- 
ried Colonel Colcock, who was acting briga- 
dier general of the coast. The time for 
her wedding was appointed and invitations 
sent out for a country wedding. The day 
came, and hour after hour we heard heavy 
cannonading. We knew a battle was being 
fought near us, but could learn no particulars. 
Evening came, and the wedding guests as- 
sembled, but no groom arrived. There was 
great uneasiness among the guests, and I per- 
suaded Agnes to change her gown and come 
downstairs to see if her presence would not 
cheer the party. Although filled with anxiety 
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Old Plantation Days 

herself, she followed my persuasion and be- 
haved most admirably, but we had the wed- 
ding feast served as soon as possible, and 
the guests quickly departed. Everyone was 
anxious, and at two o'clock in the morning 
we heard the galloping of horses beneath the 
windows and a soldier called to us that he 
had some dispatches for us. 

It proved as we thought; there had been 
fighting all day and Colonel Colcock was not 
wounded, but would come as soon as possible. 
Two days afterwards he appeared in the 
morning and brought a minister with him. 
He and Agnes were married at once, and he 
took his bride away with him; not to the 
camp, but to a place where she would be more 
comfortable, and he could sometimes see her. 
Their bridal trip was spent within fortifica- 
tions along the coast. 

Those were days of constant excitement 
70 



Old Plantation Days 

and unrest, as you can well Imagine. Hus- 
bands and sons were all away, giving their 
lives in defense of their " hearth fires." The 
trusted negroes were our only protection and 
they took every care of us. 

I well remember a scene that occurred 
about this time of the war. My youngest 
brother was a prisoner near Old Point Com- 
fort, and finally received his liberty through 
the kindness of a fellow Southern soldier. 
They had been in prison six months together 
suffering all the hardships of prison life dur- 
ing war. Many times starvation stared them 
in the face, and upon some of the prisoners 
the death penalty was inflicted when the 
men playing together would accidentally slip 
over the so-called "death line." My brother 
was only about nineteen and the Benjamin 
of our family. The soldier with him had 
consumption and could live only a short time. 

71 



Old Plantation Days 

He came to my brother and said he was going 
to be released because they knew he would 
soon die. He then offered to change clothes 
with my brother and take his place and name, 
thus letting my brother go free while he re- 
mained in prison. 

I heard one day cries of joy and great 
excitement among the negroes; hurrying to 
the back piazza I saw about fifty darkies, 
men and women crowded together bearing 
my brother on their shoulders, " Massa 
Luther, Massa's youngest boy, God bless 
him, God bless him," they shouted. 

You can imagine the scene. We hastened 
down to join in the jubilation, but father and 
mother could scarcely get near their son, as 
the servants had taken complete possession 
of him. 

When they finally made way for the mas- 
ter and mistress, my parents found that my 
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Old Plantation Days 

brother's condition was such that he could 
not come Into the house ; he was covered with 
vermin. He was taken to an outhouse where 
he bathed, and his clothing was burned. Then 
he told us of his many adventures and his 
hard time in prison, where he would indeed 
have starved had it not been for kind friends 
at the North, who sent him money which 
enabled him to buy food, and he told us of 
the great sacrifice the Southern soldier had 
made for him. My father immediately for- 
warded a check for a thousand dollars to the 
poor family whose husband and father never 
returned to them. 

Another war Incident In our family was 
that connected with a brother's son. At the 
early age of fifteen, he ran away to go into 
the Southern army. His mother could not 
make him return, so she called a young col- 
ored man, who was a devoted servant of the 
73 



Old Plantation Days 

family, to her and said to him, " John, go 
with your young master, and whatever hap- 
pens to him, bring him back to me, wounded 
or dead, bring him back to me." 

This young man's bravery made him 
known throughout the regiment. He was 
finally wounded, and died in North Carolina 
in a hospital, John never leaving him. After 
his death, John put him in a pine coffin rough- 
ly knocked together and started home with 
him. In the month of August the devoted 
servant reached his mistress, having been 
two weeks on the way. He would tell his 
story and beg for help to take his young 
master home, according to his promise to his 
mistress. 

In spite of many misrepresentations by 
those who can never comprehend the ten- 
der attachment existing in those days between 
master and slave, I want you to have a clear 
74 



Old Plantation Days 

Idea of It, and I want you to know that 
the Southerner understood, and understands 
to this day, the negro's character better than 
the Northerner, and is In the main kinder to, 
and more forbearing with him. There were 
countless Incidents during the war of love 
and loyalty shown by the negroes to their 
former owners, which you will read of In the 
many stories written now by those who know 
the truth. 

The year 1864, In the month of December, 
found me still In the old homestead. 

Sherman had passed on the Georgia side 
of the river, to Savannah, which was taken. 
We wondered what would be his next move, 
but never for an Instant thought he would 
retrace his steps, and go through South Car- 
olina. 

The Southern troops which had guarded 
Savannah retreated to our neighborhood, and 
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Old Plantation Days 

we cared for them for several weeks. There 
were at least five thousand troops on our 
plantation of nine thousand acres. Barbe- 
cues of whole beeves, hogs, and sheep were 
ordered for them. The officers were fed in 
the house, there being sometimes two hun- 
dred a day. The soldiers had their meals 
in camp. 

All planters in South Carolina were re- 
stricted by law in planting cotton. Only three 
acres were allowed to the negro worker, thus 
causing a large amount of corn and other 
such grain to be raised, because the Confed- 
erate Government wanted this to provide for 
the Southern army. 

Thousands of bushels of corn could not 
be housed, but were harvested and left in 
pens in the fields. Father had ten thousand 
bushels of corn on our plantation. 

We did not sell cotton during the war. For 
76 



Old Plantation Days 

money we had no use, as everything was 
grown or manufactured on the plantation. 
We had a steam mill for sawing lumber, and 
mills for grinding corn and wheat. Sugar 
was made in quantities for negroes, but there 
was no way of refining it. 

Everything was bountiful and we lacked 
nothing, but coffee and tea. Every known 
and unknown substitute was used for these 
drinks, but none were satisfactory; other- 
wise we never lived with greater abun- 
dance. 

Our swamps yielded us all game bounti- 
fully, venison, wild turkeys, partridges, and 
reed birds. It was a rich country and could 
feed an army. 

I met and conversed with many of the chief 
officers, and consulted them about the ad- 
visability of sending my father, who was then 
seventy years of age, away from his home. 

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Old Plantation Days 

The officers urged us to do so, as they feared 
the Northern army would invade our State 
and township. So very reluctantly father and 
mother left their loved home, which they 
were destined never to see again. They went 
to live with a married daughter, who had a 
home in an adjoining county. Some of their 
negroes pleaded to go with them, and about 
fifty followed with wagons filled with their 
effects. 

It was a wise provision that father was 
spared the sight of the destruction of his 
house and property, and possibly personal 
violence from the hands of the Northern sol- 
diers, for during the raid, my uncle, an old 
man who was reputed to be wealthy was 
asked by the soldiers where he had buried 
his gold; and twice was he hung by them and 
cut down when unconscious, because he would 
not confess its hiding place. My child, he 
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Old Plantation Days 

had no gold, his wealth lay in his land and 
negroes. 

Shortly after father and mother's depar- 
ture, one morning, early, the remaining ne- 
groes came running to the house in a state 
of wild excitement, and said that Sherman's 
army was crossing the Savannah River at the 
next landing below my father's. I was pick- 
ing oranges when the news came. Green 
oranges, blossoms, and ripe fruit all hung 
together on the tree. It was a favorite tree 
grown to an unusual size by the care given 
it, as it was always protected in winter. I 
have only to close my eyes at any time and 
see plainly the beautiful tree in all its glory 
of fruit and flower. We had picked from 
it that day a thousand oranges, the most 
luscious fruit, but they were left for Sher- 
man's army to devour, for we were thrown 
into a panic by the news the negroes brought 
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Old Plantation Days 

us, and hastily got Into our carriages and fled. 
The negroes followed us in wagons, and we 
left our lovely home as If we had gone for a 
drive. 

Our flight has always reminded me of Ja- 
cob's going down Into Egypt, a caravan of 
people, for as we fled we first took with us 
our dear father and mother, then as the panic 
spread, one married daughter with all her 
children joined us, and then another, until 
we finally numbered about forty persons 
journeying northward. In order that you 
may understand how our numbers increased 
so rapidly, I must tell you that father gave 
each of his children at marriage a plantation 
with negroes and a house. These homes 
were in an adjoining county, that of Barnwell, 
and as we passed through this county differ- 
ent members of the family would join us. 

On the second day of our journey your 
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Old Plantation Days 

mother was taken with a sore throat and high 
fever, and as we had no bed to lay her on 
we took turns in holding her in our arms. 
Thus we traveled to the upper part of the 
State fleeing from the army of invaders at 
whose hands we expected no mercy of any 
kind. 

An old school friend of mine, Georgiana 
Dargan, daughter of the Chancellor of South 
Carolina, had written me repeatedly during 
the war to come to her. She had never mar- 
ried and lived in a large Southern colonial 
mansion situated on a beautiful estate. We, 
in our need, thought of her and pushed on, 
hoping she could receive us all. We were 
not disappointed, the house was thrown 
open to us and we received a warm wel- 
come. 

It was a strange fate that Sherman fol- 
lowed us in our flight passing through Co- 
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Old Plantation Days 

lumbia and within ten miles of us. His scouts 
came in and stole all our horses, except a 
few which we had time to hide in the swamps. 
The soldiers ordered many of the negroes, 
choosing the best young men, to mount the 
horses and go with them. All of them re- 
turned to us that night; they had broken 
away from camp, but were on foot. But let 
me tell you here, Sherman's army burned 
Columbia. He denied it, but we know he 
did it for my husband's sister, Mrs. Thomas 
Clarkson, who lived there, was ill, and the 
soldiers lifted her out of bed and laid her 
in the street while the torch was put to her 
home. Then, too, only three years ago, the 
burning of Columbia was admitted to me by 
a Northern general. General Howard. These 
were his words: "Sherman did not burn 
Columbia, but I am sorry to say his troops 
did." They got hold of liquor and so became 
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Old Plantation Days 

mercilessly destructive. Sherman may not 
have given the order, but he was undoubtedly 
responsible for the plunder and destruction 
engaged In by those under his command. The 
people of Columbia were left without shelter 
or food, " Only women and children to wage 
war against," as a venerable judge, Judge 
William De Saussure, an uncle of Dr. De 
Saussure, told Sherman In pleading for clem- 
ency. 

We were about fifty miles above Columbia, 
and as the army passed us they went on to 
Cheraw, a town lying on the northern border 
of South Carolina, forty miles above us. 

There your great-grandfather De Saus- 
sure, who was an old man, had fled from his 
home in Charleston with his five daughters. 
In a few days news was brought us that 
Cheraw had been burned, and everybody was 
starving. 

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Old Plantation Days 

I was naturally eager to go to the assist- 
ance of my husband's people, and I went to 
one of my sisters-in-law asking her if she 
would be willing to accompany me to Cheraw, 
a drive of forty miles. She said she would 
go with me. Joe, my butler, to whom I was 
very much attached, agreed to drive us. We 
borrowed a pair of mules and started in the 
early morning with com meal and bacon and 
flour for my husband's people. We had 
driven only a few miles when we came to the 
road passed over by Sherman only four days 
before. Such sights as we beheld along that 
road; dead horses, disemboweled cattle, dead 
dogs, and as it was in spring they were all 
decomposed because of our hot climate. At 
every turn of the road we expected to meet 
outriders from the Northern army. It was 
a day of great fatigue and fear. Our mules 
were lazy and would not move out of a walk. 
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Old Plantation Days 

Joe mounted one of them, and strove In vain 
to urge them on faster. 

The day seemed endless to us, but the 
hours wore on, and the sun was just setting 
as we crawled up a final hill, when we were 
startled by seeing a number of men on horse- 
back approaching, who we were sure were 
soldiers. My heart sank, for I expected our 
carriage would be confiscated as well as the 
mules, and we left to spend the night unpro- 
tected In the woods. 

As the horsemen drew nearer, I saw to my 
joy that there was a mixture of blue and gray 
uniforms. The men were evidently of our 
army, for Southerners often wore at this 
stage of the war any kind of clothing they 
could get hold of to cover them. One of the 
officers rode up to us, and to my great sur- 
prise and delight, I found he was Major 
Colcock, whom I well knew, as he was a 

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Old Plantation Days 

brother of Colonel Colcock, sister Agnes's 
husband. 

Our surprise was mutual. He exclaimed, 
" Why Mrs. De Saussure, what are you doing 
here? " I replied, " Trying to reach Cheraw 
to take provisions In to the aid of my hus- 
band's father and sisters." 

" To Cheraw," he exclaimed, " a most 
difficult journey, madam; the roads are In 
a dreadful condition and the little flat boat 
that crosses the river is in such demand I 
doubt if you can get it." 

"I will not turn back. Major Colcock," I 
replied. " I must go on." So we parted, 
he going his way and I mine. 

After two hours of weary travel, we 
reached the river and were fortunate in find- 
ing the boat could carry us over the river. 
We crossed and reached the town of Cheraw 
at ten o'clock at night. A scene of desolation 
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Old Plantation Days 

greeted my eyes the next morning; all the 
public buildings had been burned, houses 
alone were standing amid desolate surround- 
ings. The De Saussure family and others 
had been living on scorched rice and corn, 
scraped from the ashes. Officers as well 
as soldiers had gone Into houses and taken 
all food that could be found and burned It 
In the yards of the various houses; leaving 
the women and children to starve. My beau- 
tiful harp, which after cutting the strings, 
I had sent to Cheraw for safety In care of 
Mr. De Saussure, had narrowly escaped be- 
ing taken by some officers. They asked to 
have the box opened for them, but Mr. De 
Saussure told them the harp was out of order, 
so they passed It by. My harp was safe, but 
your great-aunt Agnes was not so fortunate 
with her piano. It was a gift from her father 
when she left school, and a beautiful Stein- 
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Old Plantation Days 

way. When she married Colonel Colcock, 
he said to her: " Ship your piano to Charles- 
ton; it will be safer there than in the coun- 
try." Colonel Colcock was from Charleston 
and had relatives to whom he wrote asking 
them to care for the piano, when it arrived. 
It reached Charleston just about the time the 
city fell into the hands of the enemy. Col- 
onel Colcock's uncle went down to the station 
to get it, when he learned that an officer had 
taken it and shipped it off to the North. 

Twenty years after the war, this notice 
published in the News and Courier of 
Charleston was sent me from different parts 
of the South: 



88 



Old Plantation Days 
NOTICE 

A RELIC OF THE WAR 

Miss Nannie Bostick's Music Book in the 
Hands of a Federal Soldier. 

To the editor of the News and Courier: 
Will you insert the following in your paper, 
as It will be of benefit to one of South Car- 
olina's ladies: 

If Miss Nannie Bostick will communicate 
with Captain James B. Rife, MIddletown, 
Dauphin County, Pennsylvania, she will 
learn something to her advantage. 

I have in my possession a music book which 
was captured or stolen by some one during 
the war, and I would like to return It to her 
If she still lives. By so doing you will greatly 
oblige, 

Yours very truly, Jas. B. Rife, 

Late Capt. U. S. A. 

MiDDLETOWN, DaUPHIN CoUNTY, Pa., 

January 26, 1889. 
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Old Plantation Days 

The Miss Nannie Bostick. above referred 
to afterwards married Dr. Henry De Saus- 
sure, of this city. After his death she was 
for a long time employed as an instructor at 
Vassar College, N. Y., and is now a resident 
of Brooklyn. The home of Colonel Bostick, 
the father of Mrs. De Saussure, on Black 
Swamp, in Beaufort (now Hampton) Coun- 
ty, was burned by General Sherman's army in 
the grand " march to the sea." 

On reading it I was of course, much ex- 
cited and wrote immediately to the gentle- 
man in Meadsville, telling him I was the 
person he was looking for. I waited three 
weeks most anxiously, and then received a 
letter from his sister saying that for years 
her brother had been trying to find me, and 
that he had something to tell me which was 
communicated to him by a dying soldier. 
The sister further wrote that her brother had 
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Old Plantation Days 

advertised in New York and Southern papers 
before, and the cause of his doing so again 
was that a young niece visiting them, in look- 
ing over some old books had come across a 
music book with my name on It. She went 
with it Into his room, and said, " Uncle, who 
is Miss Nannie W. Bostick?" 

He sprang from his chair exclaiming, 
"What do you know about her?" 

When he learned that she knew nothing 
and had merely seen my name on the old 
music book, he said, " I will try once more 
to find her," and sent off the notice to the 
News and Courier of Charleston. 

As fate would have It the next day, on his 
way to Harrlsburg to make arrangements for 
a Cleveland procession, his horse took fright 
from a trolley car, and in the accident he 
was instantly killed. 

The music book was returned to me by his 
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Old Plantation Days 

sister, but whatever the secret was that he 
had carried so many years, it died with him, 
for no one else knew it. 

After his death his sister asked me to visit 
her. She said my name was so often on her 
brother's hps, and she only knew he wanted 
to communicate something of importance, 
but what it was he had never told her. He 
was a prominent man in the army. She sent 
me his photograph and the notice of his 
death. 

You can imagine this incident brought back 
many memories. What could have been the 
dying soldier's communication that Captain 
Rife wished so much to tell me, and which 
he never intrusted to any other member of 
his family ? And where had this very heavy, 
old music book, in his possession, been found ? 
My sisters, when I met them, talked the mat- 
ter over with me, and Agnes said: "I re- 
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Old Plantation Days 

member putting a lot of books, among them 
some of yours, with my piano to pack it tight- 
ly." When it was shipped North the book 
was found with the piano, as I have since 
ascertained. 

We wondered that the music book had 
ever come back to me, its rightful owner, 
but since I have lived at the North, even 
family Bibles, which were taken from the 
old homes, have been returned to me. 
Looting was the order of the day during 
the Civil War, and wanton destruction fol- 
lowed. 

I once went South with old Captain 
Berry, who for twenty years had charge of 
a steamer plying between Charleston and 
New York. Your mamma and myself were 
the only ladies on board, as the time was in 
July when the tide of travel was northward. 
The officers of the steamer were exceedingly 
93 



Old Plantation Days 

kind to us, and told us many interesting stories 
of their seafaring lives. 

Captain Berry told me of a trip he made 
from New Orleans to New York, when Gen- 
eral Ben Butler was there in command. A 
division of the army was being transferred 
and Captain Berry said that besides soldiers 
the vessel was laden with all kinds of hand- 
some furniture, with pictures, pianos, and 
trunks filled with women's clothing, from a 
lady's bonnet to slippers. That division of 
the army which Captain Berry was bringing 
North belonged to one of the generals under 
Butler's command. 

The vessel was laden, the last soldier had 
stepped aboard, when just before the gang- 
plank was lowered, a jet-black pony was hur- 
ried aboard, a perfect beauty. Then a lady 
was seen rapidly riding along the wharf; she 
quickly jumped from her horse, and went 
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Old Plantation Days 

on board inquiring for the general; when he 
was pointed out to her she stepped up to him 

and said : " General , you have taken my 

husband's last gift to his little boy, the pony; 
I have come to ask you to return him to me." 
The general turned a deaf ear to her request, 
and as he did so, she drew her whip across 
his face with a stinging lash. Had he lifted 
his finger to her in return. Captain Berry 
said, the soldiers would have shot him dead. 
During that trip North in the silence of 
the night, the soldiers went down into the 
hold of the vessel, opened every box, cut 
strings on pianos, ruined pictures and other 
things with ashes and water, then nailed up 
every box carefully and put It In place again. 
This was done by the Northern soldiers on 
board who knew of and resented the wrong 
done to the people of New Orleans. The 
poor little pony never reached his destina- 
95 



Old Plantation Days 

tlon, for he was found dead the next morning; 
a mysterious death, but the soldiers knew, 
and had had a hand in his taking off. Thus 
they avenged the lady to whom their sym- 
pathy had gone out. 

Captain Berry was a Northern man, but 
his frequent visits to Charleston had thrown 
him Into Intimate relations with the Southern 
people and he admired them greatly. 

We spent six months, from December, 
1864, until June, 1865, at Darlington, our 
place of retreat. It was a hard winter; food 
was scarce, and little but the coarsest kind 
could be bought. 

By spring we had grown hopeless, and well 
I remember that while walking in the garden 
some one called out to me, " The war is over, 
Lee has surrendered." My feelings were 
tumultuous; joy and sorrow strove with each 
other. Joy In the hope of having my hus- 

96 



Old Plantation Days 

band and the brothers and friends who were 
left, return to me, but oh, such sorrow over 
our defeat ! 

In the course of time, the men of our fam- 
ily returned with the exception of your great- 
uncle Edward, my brother, who had gone 
through the war, but was finally killed in the 
last two weeks of fighting around Petersburg, 
Va. 

As one after another of the family came 
back to us, worn out and dispirited, our 
thoughts turned to the dear old home on the 
Savannah River, and we longed to go back. 
Before yielding to our desires, it was con- 
sidered wise for the men of the family to go 
first and investigate. They found only ashes 
and ruin everywhere in our neighborhood, 
and father's place, except a few negro cabins, 
was burned to the ground. There were 
thirty buildings destroyed. 

97 



Old Plantation Days 

The steam mill, blacksmith's shop, carpen- 
ter's shop, barns, and house — nothing was 
left standing except chimney and brick walls 
to mark the place of our once prosperous, 
happy home. There was but one fence 
paling to indicate the site of our little village. 
The church, too, was burned, and now negro 
cabins are standing where it once graced 
the landscape. Our beautiful lawns were 
plowed up and planted in potatoes and 
corn by the negroes, who were told we would 
never return. 

Sherman left a track of fire for three hun- 
dred miles through the State. When you 
hear the war song " Marching through 
Georgia," which stirs the hearts of the 
Northerner, think of the scenes of desolation 
and heartbreak the song recalls to the South- 
erner. 

When I left my own home in Robertville, 
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Old Plantation Days 

I took the daguerreotypes of my old school- 
mates, Northern girls, of whom I was fond, 
and opening the clasps I stood them all in a 
row on the mantel, hoping that should some 
commander find among them the face of a 
relative, he would spare the house for the 
sake of friendship. It was a vain hope, for 
my lovely house was destroyed with all the 
others. However, a soldier, brother of one 
of the girls, did find among the pictures the 
likeness of his sister and he wrote me after 
the war about thus seeing amid the roar of 
battle the likeness of his angel sister, for she 
was then dead. 

You will often hear of the " reconstruction 
period," the period when the situation had 
to be faced by the beaten Southerner, and 
everything had to be managed on a new and 
strange basis. That period in my life had 
now come, for we all resolved to return home 

99 



Old Plantation Days 

and do the best we could with what we had 
left. 

Father had loaned the Confederate Gov- 
ernment fifty horses and mules; twenty-five 
were returned to him, good, bad, and indif- 
ferent. We took the journey home by the 
aid of these animals, and our carnage was 
drawn by one large " raw-boned " horse 
helped by a little pony. We camped out at 
night, and drove all day. Sometimes we 
were able to get shelter for our parents. It 
was very rough traveling; the roads were de- 
stroyed, and trees had been cut down block- 
ing the way. We finally reached the only 
house left standing near our former home, at 
eleven o'clock at night, after ten days of 
travel. This house was far off from all plan- 
tations, situated in a pine forest. It was used 
by our family for a summer retreat. It had 
large airy rooms; one measuring twenty-five 

100 



Old Plantation Days 

feet, and one fifty feet. In this house, bereft 
of all its furniture, our family gathered. We 
found our negroes scattered and completely 
demoralized. 

Starvation seemed imminent. The men of 
our family went to work to cut timber, to be 
shipped to Savannah on rafts. In the mean- 
time, before we could expect any monetary 
return from this industry, what else could we 
do to better our condition? was the question 
we asked one another. 

One of my brother's former negroes came 
to me and said, " I think you could make 
money by baking pies and bread for the col- 
ored Northern troops." 

Those soldiers were quartered on my 
father's plantation. My dear, war was noth- 
ing compared to the horrors of that recon- 
struction period. For six months we never 
went to bed without bidding one another 

lOI 



Old Plantation Days 

good-by, not expecting to be alive the next 
morning. We sold our jewelry, all that was 
left, to the soldiers, and they would come to 
the house, march around it with bayonets 
drawn, and curse us with the vilest oaths. 
We would gather the little ones around us, 
bar the door, and wait, for we knew not what. 

When you are old enough, Dorothy, dear, 
read " The Leopard's Spots," which gives 
a better description of what we endured, than 
I ever can write. 

However, we needed money to buy food 
with. I, therefore, set to work making 
bread, and any number of green-apple pies. 
Tom, a negro, built us a clay oven and we 
secured a negro's service for the baking; I 
got up at four o'clock in the morning, and by 
ten o'clock Tom was off with the pony and 
wagon, to sell articles for us. We had 
enough to live on, but no meat except bacon. 

102 



Old Plantation Days 

By request of every white person the Gov- 
ernment removed the colored troops six 
months after the war, and sent white troops 
in their place. 

Poor grandpa would sit all day with 
bowed head and say over and over, " My 
poor daughters, my poor daughters." We 
tried to appear brave and cheerful and would 
say in reply, "Why we can manage; do not 
trouble about us." But father's heart was 
broken and though he appeared well, he in- 
stinctively felt that his days were numbered 
and asked to have our former pastor called. 

When the minister came, we and some 
neighbors gathered together in a little supply 
store that was " thrown up " after the war, 
and there we stood, or sat on the counters, 
during service. It was a touching scene. 
Your mother was a little girl of five years, 
and she feeling the sadness of it all, wept 
103 



Old Plantation Days 

through the whole service. F'ather gathered 
her in his arms and tenderly wiped her tears 
away. 

As service closed an old church member 
and father advanced to shake hands with 
each other saying simultaneously: " We shall 
drink no more of the fruit of the vine, until 
we drink in our Father's Kingdom." 

It seemed in the nature of a prediction, for 
three days afterwards father passed peace- 
fully away, without apparent illness. 

Mother lived until her eighty-seventh year, 
weary, sad years for her. She lived with her 
children, but none were able to make her 
comfortable. Poverty reigned everywhere, 
and still exists in that once luxurious country. 
We thanked God that father had not to en- 
dure, for long, the sight of our want and dis- 
tress. Before he died, however, we left the 
large house in which we first took refuge, and 
104 



Old Plantation Days 

started housekeeping separately in outhouses 
or cabins in the pinelands, which were for- 
merly used for storerooms, kitchens, laun- 
dries, etc. 

We fitted up one of these cabins as com- 
fortably as we could for father's and moth- 
er's use, and in another little house situated 
about three and a half miles from them, I 
lived a while with your mamma and Dr. De 
Saussure. In this little house we had to 
endure great hardships for many years, and 
led the most desolate lives. 

Your precious mother was our only com- 
fort; she was always happy. She had few 
books, no school, and as my husband was an 
invalid, he was often too ill to see her, or to 
be left alone. She would study her lessons 
and sit outside the door of his darkened 
room, and when I could leave him she would 
recite to me what she had learned. 
105 



Old Plantation Days 

Another time we lived in a little cabin, 
part of which was curtained off for the ac- 
commodation of a sister of Dr. De Saus- 
sure's and her baby. Our kitchen stove was 
under an open shed built against the side of 
the house. Heavy rain would flow over the 
dirt floor, and remain standing several inches 
deep. 

At this time your mother's one delight was 
her pony Brownie. 8he would drive the cows 
up from the swamps, and Brownie soon 
learned to give them a bite on their backs 
when they stopped to graze. 

" Jeff Davis " was also a great pet; he was 
a young calf we never allowed to leave the 
yard for fear the negroes would take him. 
Poor Jeff was sacrificed for food, but your 
mother's heart was broken for her pet, and 
she could not be induced to taste any portion 
of the meat. 

io6 



Old Plantation Days 

Before I undertook to make pies and bread 
for the colored troops, and when we were 
very hard pressed, as I said before, I went 
and spent a night with my parents. My 
adopted sister, the housekeeper of whom I 
told you, called me out of the house and tak- 
ing me some distance away so we could not 
be heard by them, said: " We have but a pint 
of corn meal in the house, and if I cook that 
for our supper I have nothing to give father 
and mother for breakfast." We cried to- 
gether, and wondered what we could do. 
One of our negro men from the plantation 
approached me and said, " Miss Nancy " 
(they called me by that name, and the grand- 
children of our old negroes still use it), " the 
steamboat has just landed at the dock, and 
there are lots of boxes for you." Amazed, I 
exclaimed, " Why, who has sent me any- 
thing?" I looked then upon all Northern 
107 



Old Plantation Days 

friends as enemies. I had not heard from 
any of them in years; the war had separated 
us. I told the man to take a cart and hasten 
to the dock. He returned laden. Still in 
amaze I had the boxes opened, wherein we 
found all sorts of provisions: hams, sugar, 
tea, coffee, crackers, etc., etc., and better than 
all a letter from a gentleman, who wrote 
that he had read in the papers of the 
great distress of Southern people ; he 
knew nothing of my condition, but judged of 
it by what he read of the pitiful state of 
others, and he wished me to draw whatever 
amount we needed from his agent in Savan- 
nah to relieve our necessities. To me the 
heavens had opened and from them came 
these gifts. I saw in this relief when we most 
needed help the kind care of our heavenly 
Father, who had put into the heart of this 
generous man to come to our assistance. We 
io8 



Old Plantation Days 

drew enough money to enable us to buy food 
and to begin work on our own place. With 
the account of my acquaintance with this gen- 
tleman my story will close. 

He was an Englishman, who had settled 
with his family in the Bahamas. When I 
met him I was in my sixteenth year, and was 
on my way to school in Philadelphia. Agnes 
and three brothers were with me, one brother 
going to Princeton to finish his theological 
course, one to Lawrenceville to school, and 
the third to Colgate University. 

On the steamer was this gentleman, taking 
his son to Philadelphia to school. My eldest 
brother became acquainted with him, and in- 
troduced him to me. It took much longer in 
those days to make the trip, the journey com- 
prising three and a half to four days. 

Agnes and I saw a great deal of the father, 
and the son was with my brother most of the 
109 



Old Plantation Days 

time, so that when we reached Philadelphia, 
we felt well acquainted. Mr. Saunders, for 
that was the name of our new friend, said to 
my brother upon landing: " I shall be in Phil- 
adelphia a fortnight, or until my son becomes 
acquainted in the city. If you will allow 
me, I will be pleased to take your sisters 
driving with us, and show them the places 
of interest." Many pleasant drives we had 
together, and grew better acquainted each 
day. 

At the end of his visit he came to bid us 
farewell, and said to me : " Miss Nannie, I 
have a request to make of you, will you grant 
it?" I rephed, "If I can, I will gladly." 
He had often spoken of his elder son who was 
studying at Oxford, England, and he con- 
tinued: " In two years my son will graduate, 
I want you to promise me that you will wait 
until you see him before engaging yourself to 
no 



Old Plantation Days 

anyone." I laughingly promised him to wait 
the two years. 

When I was seventeen years old I returned 
home. I had been there perhaps three years, 
when I went on a brief visit to a friend who 
lived about twenty miles away from us. My 
visit ended, I returned home, and as I drove 
up to the door, my young brother ran out to 
meet me and said, *' Guess who is here to see 
you," and when I failed in guessing he said, 
" Mr. Saunders's son." 

I then met the young gentleman, a hand- 
some, fine young man, who brought letters of 
introduction from leading men in his own 
home, and one from his father, who wrote 
that he had not forgotten my promise to him, 
but that he had been delayed in fulfilling his 
desire in having us meet by his son's failing 
to find me. 

He had lost the address of my home, and 
III 



Old Plantation Days 

thinking Charleston the nearest town, his son 
was sent there to inquire for us. The next 
winter he sent him to Savannah to find me, 
and from there the young man was directed 
to my father's home. 

Mr. Saunders wrote that it had been his 
dearest wish to have me for his daughter, and 
he had talked so much to his son about me 
that he was quite willing to fall in with his 
father's wishes in the matter. 

In the meantime I had met your grand- 
father, and had decided that I would marry 
him, or no one. My father was bitterly op- 
posed to my marrying at all, as he did not 
want to part with me, and therefore, I was 
waiting until he gave his consent. 

We made Mr. Saunders's visit as pleasant 
as possible, and I told him at once of my af- 
fection for your grandfather, as I did not 
wish to deceive him. 

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Old Plantation Days 

The young man spent some weeks with us, 
and upon his return home I received another 
letter from his father saying he could not 
give up his cherished hope of having me for 
a daughter, and as his son had fallen in love 
with me, he hoped I would reconsider my de- 
cision. At the same time his son wrote of his 
attachment, offering himself to me. But it 
was useless to urge me, and though I felt 
grateful to be looked upon with so much af- 
fection I declined the offer. 

This was the beginning of a very remark- 
able friendship which sprang up between the 
father and myself. 

Upon receipt of the letter expressing my- 
self as steadfast to Dr. De Saussure, he wrote 
in reply asking that he might consider himself 
as a father, and to me and your mother, who 
always called him grandfather, he was like 
a father. 

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Old Plantation Days 

During the latter part of the war, I wrote 
to him asking if he would receive cotton 
through the blockade and arrange to send us 
in return many necessary things. We were 
without shoes, and were wearing clothes 
made from our gay silk dresses carded up and 
spun with cotton, thus woven into cloth by 
our own people. We then had an abundance 
of food, but other things were not to be 
bought. In reply he said : " Do not send your 
cotton, you will run a double risk; I will send 
you all you need, for I have more than 
enough for my family and yours." 

Never dreaming we would ever be in a po- 
sition where we could not repay Mr. Saun- 
ders, I wrote to him and sent a list of 
needed articles, pieces of linen, merino, and 
silk, and stockings and shoes for us all. He 
sent us two thousand dollars worth of goods 
in gold value, thus generously supplying 
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Old Plantation Days 

every child and grandchild in our family with 
clothes. 

Alas for us, the war ended disastrously, 
and forgetting all he had previously done for 
mc and mine, he now sent money and provi- 
sions to aid us, which help arrived in our 
darkest hour. 

I am glad to tell you that these debts were 
paid, though it took us years to do it. 

Until Mr. Saunders's death, we corre- 
sponded regularly, and fifteen years after the 
war he came to see me at Vassar College, for 
after your grandfather's death, I came North 
with your darling mother who was fifteen 
years of age, and went first to Philadelphia, 
placing her in the same school where I had 
been educated, with the same principals still 
in charge, the Misses Bonney and Dillaye. I 
kept house in Philadelphia in a quiet way in 
two rooms, and had been there two years 

"5 



Old Plantation Days 

when I learned that the gentleman whom 
your grandfather had left in charge of my af- 
fairs had speculated and lost every cent I had 
in the world. 

Immediately I tried to find some work by 
which I could support your mother and my- 
self, and through one of my former teachers, 
Miss Morse, who was then assistant to Dr. 
Raymond of Vassar College, I was offered 
the position of assistant principal. There I 
remained for five years. While at Vassar 
your mother took up a special course at the 
College and graduated from the Art Depart- 
ment. 

One day my dear old friend Mr. Saunders 
was announced. The last time we met, I was 
fifteen and he forty-five years old. This 
latter meeting took place twenty-five years 
later. It was a sad meeting for both of us. 
He had lost most of his property, and was 
ii6 



Old Plantation Days 

comparatively poor. He took me in his arms 
and said; " My child, if I were able to take 
care of you and your daughter you would not 
be here one minute, for I would take you 
home with me and take care of you both." 
The last letter I received from him said: " I 
am nearly home and when I get there I shall 
watch for your coming." 



117 



ADDENDUM 

Beaufort, S. C, January 8, 1906. 
My Dear Aunt Nannie : 

I fear you have by this time lost all hope 
of hearing from me, but I have not forgot- 
ten my promise. I am afraid, however, you 
will be very much disappointed, as I have so 
little information to give about family his- 
tory, and that little is very scrappy. Our 
branch of the family have been criminally 
careless about preserving records. 

While I have not what we lawyers would 
consider strict evidence of the fact, still I am 
quite satisfied from circumstances and infer- 
ences, which I shall not undertake in this let- 
ter to detail, that our family and the North- 
ern family of Bostick were one and the same. 
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Old Plantation Days 

Our American progenitor landed in Plym- 
outh, Mass., sometime about the middle of 
the seventeenth century, coming from Ches- 
ter County, England, and being probably 
a political refugee. His wife also came 
with him from England. In England 
the family history was both ancient and dis- 
tinguished, the founder landing on English 
soil with William the Conqueror, in whose 
service he was of distinguished rank, both 
military and social. In England he became 
one of the barons of the realm. The title 
remained for centuries in the family, and may 
be still in existence, and has been adorned by 
many distinguished representatives in the 
English wars especially. The original stock 
in Massachusetts seems to have migrated, 
mine northward and some gradually drifting 
southward. The intermediate links I cannot 
supply, but finally these brothers settled, two 
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Old Plantation Days 

m Carolina, the youngest being our great- 
grandfather Richard, and one in Georgia. In 
Jones's history of Georgia mention is made 
of Captain Littlebury Bostick, a wealthy rice 
planter near Savannah. He, I think, was the 
brother, or son of the brother who settled in 
Georgia. Richard was the youngest of the 
three. The other brother, John, bought a 
large landed estate near Columbia on which 
he lived and died quite an old man. During 
his life he maintained the style and reputation 
of a man of great wealth, but at his death it 
was found that his affairs were financially in- 
volved. He never married, but was known 
as a cultured man of decidedly literary tastes, 
and was a leading figure In the social life of 
his section. His most intimate friend was 
General Hampton, father of the Confederate 
general of same name. 

Richard settled in old Blackswamp, where 

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Old Plantation Days 

he married three times, the last two wives be- 
ing sisters, both Roberts. The last, first mar- 
ried Singleton, and at his death our ancestor. 
By the last marriage there were no chil- 
dren; by the second marriage to Miss Rob- 
ert, we are descended through your father 
Benjamin Robert Bostick; by the first mar- 
riage the other Blackswamp Bosticks are de- 
scended. 

I have not a copy of the Bostick coat of 
arms, but the motto is " Always ready to 
serve," bestowed, or adopted, I presume, in 
recognition of their martial spirit exhibited 
on many great battlefields. The Robert fam- 
ily, of whom your grandmother was a mem- 
ber, settled in Sumter. The progenitor. Rev. 
Pierre Robert, led a colony of Huguenot refu- 
gees from France. Many other Huguenot 
families in the State claim descent on mater- 
nal lines from him. He seems to have been 

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Old Plantation Days 

a man of wealth and ancient lineage. I have 
a copy of the French coat of arms. 

Your mother, who was a Maner, came of 
no less distinguished line. They were of 
Welsh descent, and probably more remotely 
of Norman French descent, as the progenitor 
was Lord de Maner. 

Grandma's mother was a May from an old 
Dutch family. The original May came to 
Charleston, and founded the first large im- 
porting house (tea chiefly) in copartnership 
with the famous Dutchman, Admiral Gillon. 

I presume you know, of course, that your 
great-grandfather, William Maner, and his 
brother Samuel were both captains in the fa- 
mous Marion Brigade in the Revolution. 
Your grandfather was a captain at eighteen 
years of age. 

I may mention also, that grandma's 
mother, who was a May, was on her maternal 

122 



Old Plantation Days 

side a daughter of an English Colonel Staf- 
ford. The English Staffords are also of an- 
cient stock, I believe. 

I am afraid the foregoing very meager ac- 
count of the family connections will give you 
very little that you do not know already. 
While I have stated the main features of the 
family history, as I know them, the statement 
is very general. If you desire more of de- 
tail with reference to any individual or any 
part of the family history, I may be able to 
give you a little more, and will take pleasure 
in answering any inquiries on this line. I 
have had to write this very hastily. 

With love from us all, I remain, 
Affectionately, 

A. McIVER BOSTICK. 



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